Mimi lay under her silk-filled doona and gazed out of the window at a pair of tiny bright eyes in the morning sky. The stars winked at her. The purr of the traffic was becoming a roar. It was six o’clock.

On her bedside table lay the Empress Cassia Pastels. Funny how they look so new. Will they never wear down? She read the last part of the inscription again; A Treasure for Some A Curse for Others. Mimi knew how much of a treasure they were, but why would they be a curse?

The telephone rang in the next room.

‘Wei,’ said Mrs Lu answering in Chinese.

‘Aiya . . . Poor Ting.’

Mimi guessed it was her dad. ‘He has no wife, no children, only us.’ She sighed again. ‘It was good you were there with him at the end. You’ll be home on Thursday then? Yes, I understand . . . after the funeral.’

Mimi lay in bed trying to remember Uncle Ting’s face. It was as though she were looking into a pond and raindrops were falling onto the surface, blurring the contours. But Mimi was certain that the two stars winking through the window were the bright eyes of her uncle. She looked out into the blue-black morning sky and whispered, ‘I’ll miss you not being on earth, Uncle Ting, even though I haven’t seen you for ages. I wish I had a photo of you. I can’t remember what you look like anymore. If you’re reborn like Mum says we all are, I hope you come back and live close by. Maybe you can give me some kind of sign. Goodbye Uncle Ting.’

Mimi dressed quickly and went outside. Good, just enough morning light to start. She knelt on the footpath outside Vic’s Greengrocery. Even though her mind was empty she felt as though there was something huge inside her heart – something very special wanting to come out. She opened the lid of the pastels. In an instant, a magnificent garden formed like a dream before her eyes. Mimi took a deep breath, chose a pastel the colour of an autumn day and began to draw the Garden of Empress Cassia.

The twelve o’clock tram clattered down Rumba Street when Mimi drew the final stroke on the footpath. The drawing was complete. She stood up to get a bird’s eye view. The garden was so beautiful even Mimi herself was taken completely by surprise. Every tiny detail was exact and the colours as brilliant as if the garden was alive. Suddenly there was a loud shriek from behind her.

‘Watch out!’ someone hollered.

Mimi collided with a big, bulky body coming in the opposite direction. She fell to the ground, painfully landing on her knees – the wind knocked out of her. It took a few moments to catch her breath – then her eyes focused on a walking stick, a pair of familiar black shoes and two pillar-like legs. It was the dreaded Miss Sternhop.

‘Miss Stir-em-up . . . I mean Sternhop . . . I’m sorry.’

Mimi felt the Sternhop glare piercing her head and zapping her brain cells.

‘Stupid child, why don’t you look where you’re going and what’s this graffiti on the footpath?’ Miss Sternhop’s voice sliced the air like broken pieces of glass.

Mimi’s heart beat wildly in her chest as she replied, ‘It’s a g . . . garden – the Garden of Empress Cassia.’

‘And what’s this?’ Miss Sternhop tapped at some words with her walking stick, then read slowly.

‘Under your feet the journey begins. In the palm of your hand the journey ends. Come, enter the space between Heaven and Earth. What space? What journey? What rubbish, child!’ She began rubbing away the words with her foot.

‘Miss Sternhop don’t!’ cried Mimi, suddenly fearful. But it was too late. Miss Sternhop was slowly being sucked into the garden!

‘Oh dear what’s happening. HHHEEELLLLLPPP!’ The frightened voice grew fainter and fainter.

‘Hold on, Miss Sternhop, I’m coming,’ Mimi yelled, jumping in after her.

Miss Sternhop landed on her back with a soft flumph, her feet and arms waving in the air like an overturned turtle. Mimi went to help her up.

‘Oh my, what a beautiful place,’ Miss Sternhop said in an unusually soft and sweet voice.

‘It’s the Lake of Secret Dreams,’ said Mimi. Even though she knew every detailed stroke of the garden, this was the first time she had been inside one of her own drawings. She looked about her in wonder. It was so real.

All along the shore, willow trees dipped their long green plaits into the lake, while lazy goldfish kissed the underside of the water looking for insects. Miss Sternhop sat down on a rock and gazed across the garden to the mountains in the distance. Her body melted into each hole and crevice. No longer was she the stiff, stern lady Mimi once knew.

‘Would you like to explore the garden?’ asked Mimi.

‘Yes indeed,’ replied Miss Sternhop.

The garden was vast, like a kingdom unto itself with tall mountain peaks, delicate pavilions and bridges crisscrossing the lake. Mimi and Miss Sternhop wandered through the Forest of Gentle Ghosts and explored Laughing Hole Grotto. Then they climbed up a thousand and sixty-five steps to where Crimson Cloud Temple stood carved into the side of a steep mountain cliff. There they rested on the terrace, while shiny-headed monks in grey robes served them tea and sweet date cakes.

The Garden of Empress Cassia was completely surrounded by a long wall, its top snaking like a flying dragon. In the wall, fan-shaped windows framed a mountain view or a creamy white peony flower. And along the wall’s surface were carved all kinds of dragons flying between clouds of the softest pink. Mimi and Miss Sternhop came down off the mountain, laughing and giggling. But when Miss Sternhop saw the wall, the laughter faded from her face. She stared at the flying dragons and her eyes filled with tears.

‘What’s the matter Miss Sternhop?’ Mimi couldn’t believe she was crying. In class she had tried to imagine Miss Hilda Sternhop as a baby. A fat baby with tight, thin lips. Baby Hilda never cried, just screamed. ‘MO . . . THER . . . I’m awake, change my nappy, where’s my milk, give me my dummy, get me up, shake a leg –’

Mimi now knew that anything was possible in the Garden of Empress Cassia.

‘I was remembering Beechwood,’ said Miss Sternhop. ‘The time when a two seater plane made a crash landing in Main Street. I was your age, twelve or thirteen years old. The plane barely missed Mrs Hatchet’s old red pickup truck, just scraping her roof with its wheels. The pilot was very clever though, swerving this way and that to avoid the cars – and finally ending up with the plane’s propeller in the dust. As he climbed out of the cockpit, everyone cheered and all the men went up to shake his hand and pat him on the back as if he were a hero. He was very handsome. I raced home to tell my father. Nothing exciting ever happened in Beechwood.

‘I told him how brave the pilot was and that I wanted to fly when I grew up. I’ve always wanted to fly. I would lie in the sunflower field beside our house and watch the wedge-tailed eagles gliding effortlessly in the sky.

‘My father scolded me. Called me ridiculous. “Girls don’t fly aeroplanes!” he said. “Teaching. Now that’s a nice profession for a girl.”

‘In those days, girls obeyed their parents and had few choices about what they were going to do. That was the last time I talked about flying to anyone . . . until now.’

Mimi put her hand into Miss Sternhop’s. She led her across a zig-zag bridge to a pavilion in the middle of the Lake of Secret Dreams. The black-tiled roof looked like an elegant hat worn at the races. Miss Sternhop walked up the steps.

‘The Pavilion of the Mysterious Way –’ Miss Sternhop read. She wondered for a second how she could read the Chinese characters.

Together Mimi and Miss Sternhop sat on the wooden seat that circled die inside of the pavilion. They both had secret dreams and understood each other perfectly.

Ding, ding, ding. The twelve o’clock tram rattled noisily down the street, leaving behind a swirl of dust. Not a nano-second had passed in the outside world on Rumba Street since Miss Sternhop was sucked into the garden. She stood on the footpath relaxed, her weight on one leg. She didn’t remember her journey. But as she leant down to pat a small child on the head, Mimi knew that Miss Sternhop had changed inside.

‘Goodbye, Mimi,’ she said. ‘Now where did I put my walking stick?’

‘Maybe you won’t need it any more,’ Mimi said.

‘You know, I don’t think I will.’ Miss Sternhop walked up Rumba Street as if she was on a brand new pair of legs.

The next day was one of those hot stuffy southern hemisphere days, when the north wind blows so warm it’s hard to breathe. Even the flies were too lazy to move and stuck to the skin like leeches.

‘Hello, my old China plate,’ greeted Mr Honeybun. ‘It’s going to be a real stinker today’

‘Close your eyes,’ said Mimi, ‘And I’ll take you somewhere nice and cool.’

Mr Honeybun was always in for a bit of fun, so he closed his eyes and put out his hand. Mimi led him to the words written on the pavement where the entrance of the garden stood.

‘Stand here and read this, Mr Honeybun. You’ll be there in a flash.’

Mr Honeybun read, ‘Under your feet the journey begins. In the palm of your hand the journey ends. Come, enter the space between Heaven and Earth.’ As soon as he had finished reading, he vanished into the garden.

The next visitor to happen down the street was a hot and bothered Mrs Jacobs in her red high-heeled shoes. Every few steps she stopped to wipe her brow and brush away the flies.

‘Hello dear, what have you drawn this time?’

‘Another garden, Mrs Jacobs.’

‘Oh I do love gardens –’ She felt a cool breeze blowing across the footpath.

‘Perhaps the change is on its way already. Is this a poem, dear?’

‘Yes, Mrs Jacobs.’

Mrs Jacobs read the inscription and, like Miss Sternhop and Mr Honeybun, was whisked into the garden. Mimi followed her in.

Mrs Jacobs breathed in the scent of lilacs then walked dreamily towards the Pavilion of the Mysterious Way. The breeze blew cool against her face.

She turned and smiled at Mimi. ‘George gave me a blue sapphire ring when I was sixteen. It was too big for my finger so I wore it around my neck on a strand of wool. The following year, he bought me a gold chain to match.’ Mrs Jacobs sighed and touched her neck as if she could still feel it there. ‘I lost it years ago . . . the only gift I really ever treasured you know.’

‘Kristel –’ came a voice from across the lake.

Mrs Jacobs looked around bewildered. ‘George? George is that you?’

‘Yes, Kristel. I have something to tell you.’

A watery image of a man drifted over the lake and into the pavilion like a mirage.

George bent down and kissed Kristel on the cheek – then whispered something in her ear. She nodded slowly with a smile.

‘I knew it. I just knew it was somewhere safe. Thank you, love.’ The ghostlike figure of George drifted back across the lake and gradually vanished into the mist.

As Mrs Jacobs left the Pavilion of the Mysterious Way, Mr Honeybun was coming up the steps. They didn’t greet each other, even though they were old friends. It was as if they were in the garden all by themselves.

There were other people there too. All walking around enjoying the beauty, all lost in their own thoughts. Mimi saw Mr Holes sitting in the bamboo grove reading. She was glad he had come to visit.

Mimi stood on the footpath beside Mrs Jacobs. They had just emerged from the garden.

‘Now, what were we talking about? Oh yes, your new garden. It’s a lovely drawing, dear.’ Mrs Jacobs didn’t remember anything about her visit – but then she put her head to one side and a puzzled expression came over her face.

‘Something . . . something I need to remember . . . something to do with George. Now what was it?’

Suddenly her face lit up and her eyes sparkled. ‘My ring! I remember now. George and I went on a trip to Tassie in ’78. Before we left I hid the ring in the cellar behind two loose bricks. Fancy that, remembering after all these years. It must be the hot weather, although I feel as cool as an ocean breeze.’ She lifted her head and looked up to the sky. ‘Thank you love . . . I must go home right away. Bye, Mimi dear.’

A few days later Mimi saw Mr Holes walking past the shop. She hardly recognised him without his holey coat and beard. He wore jeans and a checked shirt and his dreadlocks were half their original length. Now they looked like spaghetti springs. Mimi was surprised how young he really was – about twenty years old.

‘I’m going back to Uni,’ he said.

‘I didn’t know . . .’

‘Yeah, I’m going to finish my law degree. My parents have taken me back in, so I’ll be living at home for a while. They live on the other side of town but I’ll come by and say hello from time to time. Later, kiddo.’

‘Yeah, see ya, Mr Ho . . . hey what is your real name?’

‘It’s Ed,’ he called back with a wink and a wave.